


The Proof is in the Soup

by AVegetarianCannibal



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Inner Dialogue, awkward Hannibal, chicken soup for the idiot's soul, releves, smitten cannibal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-30 23:54:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10887555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AVegetarianCannibal/pseuds/AVegetarianCannibal
Summary: Hannibal thinks he's being subtle about he feels, but that chicken soup doesn't lie...





	The Proof is in the Soup

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MessyScandinoodle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MessyScandinoodle/gifts).



 

Hannibal generally isn’t one to argue with himself. He knows his own mind, he knows what he hopes to achieve, and he knows how to either get what he wants or how to adjust any situation so that it is more advantageous to _getting_ what he want. If he doesn’t get what he wants, he can still at least amused by the process.

Except…

There is now the Will Graham issue to contend with.

Where Will Graham is concerned, Hannibal does find himself second-guessing some of his choices. There are too many choices, or not enough of them. Hannibal wants certain outcomes more than others, and he doesn’t think he’ll be satisfied with just amusement at the process.

So as he prepares the soup he intends to bring to Will’s bedside table, Hannibal wonders how best to approach a recipe he’s recreated many times.

_Should I leave the dates whole, or chop them? Might they infuse the broth with too much sweetness? What if Will doesn’t like dates?_

_Have you thought of that?_

_And the star anise…surely Will  knows not to eat them. Perhaps you should remove them after they’ve imparted their flavor._

Even on the way to the hospital, with the soup done and packed in its carrying case, Hannibal frets over how best to introduce the meal.

_Make it sound artistic and complex. Impress him with the exotic components, like a composer showing off rare instruments._

_But what if he sees the truth? What if he sees your true intentions?_

_He won’t. He’ll be dazzled by the ingredients._

In the hospital room, Will stirs from sleep as soon as Hannibal begins unpacking the meal.

“Smells delicious,” he says, hair tousled and eyes still drowsy.

“Silkie chicken in a broth,” Hannibal explains. He decides on a small history lesson. “A black-boned bird prized in China for its medicinal values since the seventh century. Wolfberries, ginseng, ginger, red dates, and star anise.”

Will’s eyebrows go up. A cartoon light bulb practically goes on over his head.

“You made me chicken soup?”

Hannibal freezes in place. His inability to respond lasts only a split second, but it feels like ages. His mind screams at him.

_HE KNOWS. WILL GRAHAM KNOWS WHAT YOU’VE DONE. HE HAS SEEN THROUGH YOUR ARTISTIC RUSE._

Time slows to a crawl, nearly stops entirely.

_YOU FOOL. YOU FOOLISH FOOL._

Will’s expression bores into him like a tunneling electron microscope, ferreting out the purest essence of the truth.

_HE KNOWS YOU HAVE MADE FOR HIM THE NUMBER ONE ILLNESS REMEDY MADE FOR LOVED ONES SINCE TIME IMMEMORIAL. CHICKEN SOUP! CHICKEN SOUP! WHEN YOU LOVE SOMEONE, YOU MAKE THEM CHICKEN SOUP!!!!_

Hannibal forces himself to remain outwardly calm and waits for time to begin moving again.

“Yes,” he finally says, his tone curt.

_CHANGE THE SUBJECT, YOU FOOL._

“The nurses tell me you’ve been wandering, Will,” he says, and hopes the burning he feels inside cannot be seen from the outside.


End file.
